


Reverie in skin and hands

by intravenusann



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Period Accurate Underwear, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Well Negotiated Kink, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intravenusann/pseuds/intravenusann
Summary: He’s still mostly dressed, they had only gotten their jackets off when Credence had found the courage to ask for the thing he’s been thinking of for weeks. He’s been shaking a little ever since Percival said, “Anything for you, Credence, anything you want.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quartermaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartermaster/gifts).



> This is written in the context of an established relationship, so you can imagine your favorite fix-it or fic.
> 
> The dynamic is very much sweet, reluctant dom Graves and needy, high-impact-loving sub Credence.

Credence’s hands rest on the pillow in front of him, the fabric warming under his palms.

“Now, if you take your hands off of it,” Percival says, “I’ll stop.”

His neck aches from how tense his shoulders are. He pinches the pillow between his thumb and his hand. His face feels hot as he presses it against the bedspread. He feels flushed all the way down his neck to his shoulder blades.

“Do you understand, Credence?” Percival says. “Then you won’t have to say anything, but I’ll stop.”

Credence nods, burying his face into the bed. He’s still mostly dressed, they had only gotten their jackets off when Credence had found the courage to ask for the thing he’s been thinking of for weeks.

He’s been shaking a little ever since Percival said, “Anything for you, Credence, anything you want.”

Percival places his hand on the back of Credence’s thigh and the first touch makes his tense body jolt. Percival’s other hand rests on his lower back, petting him until he’s only shivering.

His hand moves up Credence’s thigh with his fingers traveling up the stitches of his inseam, until he cups the swell of Credence’s ass. He touches Credence so gently, caressing him over his clothes.

Credence tenses in expectation.

Really, he is always tense in expectation of something. But now, it’s something that he wants, or that he thinks he wants. He thinks about what lead him to this: the feeling of Percival’s thighs striking his, his hips and belly against Credence’s naked body. Just thinking of the sound of Percival’s skin slapping against his makes Credence burn at the top of his ears and the back of his neck.

He is already breathing hard in anticipation.

Then Percival lifts his hand, and Credence draws a breath and holds it. He shuts his eyes tight and bites the inside of his lip.

The strike that Credence braces himself for turns out to be more of a tap. It’s not much at all.

Credence huffs out his breath all at once, fighting disappointment.

Maybe Percival is just testing him — or teasing him. The man loves to tease Credence, to stroke his cock with a loose hand, to kiss him all around his thighs and hips without touching his cock at all. He’ll touch Credence with oil-slick fingertips and only rub them against Credence hole until he pleads for more.

The second tap, which is gentle and sends no sparks up Credence’s spine, leaves him thinking he’s going to have to beg Percival to hit him.

The thought makes Credence shake more than anything Percival does.

“Please,” Credence says, muffled by the bed spread. “More.”

“You’re sure?” Percival asks.

Credence holds himself as still as he can, though he’s already hardening and pressed against Percival’s thigh.

The next strike of Percival’s hand _is_ a little harder, but barely enough to make a sound.

Credence frowns against the bedspread. Percival’s hand stays in place, squeezing his flesh hard with his fingers. That makes Credence’s cock throb more than Percival’s slaps have.

Maybe this isn’t what he wanted after all, but he has spent so many weeks imagining Percival’s hands on his bare skin, turning it flushed red and hot with his palms. Thinking about it now makes Credence move his hips a little. He wants Percival to push into him while his skin still burns and his nerves all crackle with electricity.

That’s what he wants, but it’s not what he’s getting.

Credence lets go of the pillow.

“Was that too much?” Percival asks. He sounds so concerned.

Looking over his shoulder, his face still burning with embarrassment, Credence asks, “Are you mocking me?”

Percival looks surprised. “Never, Credence.”

Credence stumbles off of Percival’s lap and over the edge of the bed.

“Are you teasing me, then?” he asks. “I didn’t want to be teased with this. I’m not sure I can take it.”

“I’m not sure what’s wrong,” Percival says.

Credence heaves a sigh. From this angle, he can plainly see that while even this little has made Credence hot-blooded and desperate, it hasn’t done anything at all for Percival.

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He’s completely lost his nerve now, so turns to leave. “I’m going to have a bath instead.”

“Wait,” Percival says. “Credence.”

He grabs Credence by the arm and Credence shakes him off angrily.

“What’s a matter?” Percival asks.

Credence’s thoughts stir with desire and disappointment. He let himself become accustomed to getting what he asked for from Percival, even when what he asked for was filthy and obscene. It was clearly a mistake.

His hair falls in his eyes, so he brushes it off his face and behind one ear.

“Never mind,” Credence says.

“No,” Percival says. He reaches out as though he means to grabs Credence by the sides of his arms and Credence steps out of his grasp.

“Credence,” he says, sounding more exasperated than concerned now.

“Is it something that I did?” Percival asks.

No, Credence thinks, it’s what Percival didn’t do. But he can’t say that. He cannot even force himself to. He stands there, closer to the bedroom’s wallpaper than Percival, totally mute.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Percival says. “I don’t like, even the thought of it.”

“You won’t,” Credence says, his lips curling after he says the words. “You couldn’t possibly.”

“I worry very much that I could,” Percival says. “And you wouldn’t stop me.”

Credence frowns as hard as he ever has. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t hurt me, because I wouldn’t let you.”

He glares at his own feet.

“No one can hurt me,” he says. “Not anymore. If you’re so worried, then know — if you hurt me, I’d stop you.”

He looks up at Percival just enough to know that he understands.

“What is it you want then?” Percival asks. “You want me to hit you and not hurt you, but now you’re throwing a tantrum because of it?”

“I am not throwing a tantrum,” Credence says.

“Really now?” Percival says. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m not!” Credence says, the pitch of his voice rising.

“Are you trying to provoke me?” Percival asks. “Is that what this is supposed to be?”

“No,” Credence says. “I’m not a child, Percival Graves.”

“Well, you’re clearly upset,” he says. “So I am only asking: what do you want me to do?”

Credence sighs again. He has already had this conversation, he feels, and it was difficult enough the first time.

“I just wanted you to slap me,” Credence says.

“I thought I did,” Percival says. “Clearly, I didn’t know exactly what you meant.”

He unfolds his arms and steps toward Credence.

When Credence backs up, he hits the wall beside the bedroom door. The curved wood molding that separates wallpaper from wood panelling on the walls digs into the back of his thighs.

“Credence,” Percival says, stepping even closer, close enough that Credence can feel his breath on his neck through the open collar of his shirt.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I can’t,” Credence says. “I already did.”

“You’ve got to be more specific for me,” Percival says.

He reaches up and cups Credence’s face in one hand, then moves his hand down until he’s holding Credence by the chin. Pushed flat against the wall, Credence has to look down to meet Percival’s eyes. It makes him incredibly nervous. His heart pounds. His cock throbs between his legs.

“How hard, Credence?” Percival asks. “Tell me exactly how hard I should hit you.”

His thigh isn’t between Credence’s legs but it’s brushing close, as though Percival wants him to know that he could press him against the wall but won’t.

Credence stands there and breathes. He looks into Percival’s eyes because Percival won’t let him look away. It seems to take forever for him to find the words, but Percival waits.

“As hard as if we were in bed and you were inside me,” Credence says, shutting his eyes after he’s said it.

“Oh,” Percival says. “That’s nicely specific.”

He steps away from Credence then, without even kissing him. Credence finds himself craning his neck out toward Percival. He wants his touch so badly.

“You know, Credence, I worry then too, that I’ll hurt you,” Percival says. “But no matter how matter how hard or fast I fuck you, you always seem to want more than I can give.”

“No, no,” Credence says. “It’s always perfect, Percival, always.”

Percival sighs. “Thank you, but you flatter me.”

“It is,” Credence insists.

“Thank you,” Percival says.

This time, when Percival moves closer to him, Credence expects to be kissed. He leans forward to meet Percival’s mouth with his own. It’s a brief kiss, but open-mouthed and wet.

“I have an idea,” Percival says, “if you would still like me to…”

“Yes,” Credence says. “Please.”

“Turn around,” Percival says.

Credence looks at Percival for a moment and then sharply turns so that his nose is against the wall. Percival’s hand on his hip makes him startle slightly, but he lets Percival draw him back a step. He lets him take him by the wrists and fold his arms up until his hands are flat against the wall paper.

“A new proposal,” Percival says. “Stand here, exactly as you are. If you want me to stop, take both hands off the wall. If I’ve been too rough, but you don’t want to stop, just take your right hand away.”

He taps his fingers against the back of Credence’s right hand, then lets his hand fall away.

“And, if you think I’m not being rough enough, if I’m not giving you what you want,” Percival says, “you can drop your left hand.”

He squeezes Credence’s left wrist and then lets him go.

“Does that sound reasonable?” Percival asks.

Credence looks over his shoulder to find Percival looking at him with open curiosity, maybe even a little bit of concern.

“Yes,” he says.

“Does it sound more like what you had in mind?” Percival asks.

Credence bites the inside of his lip. “I think so.”

He’s not entirely sure, as his imagination usually skips right to the part where he’s red and raw and folded up under Percival Graves’ body.

“Do you want to do this with your clothes on?” Percival asks, putting his hand against the middle of Credence’s back.

“Or,” he begins, “would you rather do this as though I was fucking you?”

Credence shivers a little, as he often does when Percival uses such crude language. He suspects that he’s uses those words on purpose, just to shake Credence.

“Yes.”

“Very well,” Percival says. He fingers tuck under the back of Credence’s suspenders and follow the fabric down to the waist of his pants, where they’re buttoned in place. Percival undoes the buttons there first.

Then he puts his arms around Credence’ waist, his body almost pressed against Credence’s back. Credence feels the few inches that Percival holds himself apart as he undoes the buttons of Credence’s suspenders at the front and then moves to his fly. When Percival is finished, Credence’s pants fall to his ankles and the man pulls his suspenders off his back. They fall to the floor.

Credence knows he’s breathing too quickly through his nose. His cock tries to arch away from his body, held down by the fabric of his underwear. He can’t touch himself, because if he takes his hands off the wall then Percival will stop before they’ve even begun.

Percival puts his hand to the back of Credence’s thigh, cupping the curve of his ass. Credence tenses.

“Thank you,” Percival says. “For trusting me.”

“You’re welcome,” Credence says. His voice doesn’t break, but it wavers.

“I hope I can live up to that,” Percival says.

He cups Credence’s ass again, squeezing his fingers slightly again as though Credence’s body was a ripe orange.

“I think you can,” Credence says.

Percival moves his hands to the buttons on the back of Credence’s underwear. “I really love these. They’re so old-fashioned, but it’s very convenient.”

Credence’s underwear is cotton and thin enough for him to feel the heat of Percival’s touch through it. But Percival’s fingers press into the bare cleft of his ass and make his hips jerk. He breathes sharply.

Percival caress him, his bare hand against Credence’s bare skin, then steps away.

Credence feels a chill.

“You’re a sight to see,” Percival says.

Credence looks over his shoulder, his hair in his eyes. “Percival, are you delaying?”

“A bit,” Percival says.

He moves in close to Credence’s shoulder again, his hand touching the small of Credence’s back and then coming to rest on top of his ass.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Percival says. “I want you to feel good.”

“This will feel good,” Credence says. “And if it doesn’t, I’ll stop you.”

“I’m trusting you, too,” Percival says.

He leans in and presses a kiss to Credence’s cheek. Then he leans away again.

Credence has let himself get distracted and the distraction has caused him to relax. He’s not wound tight as a spring, holding his body stiff in expectation. He’s merely standing. Only as tense as he ever is.

Percival’s palm smacking against his skin comes fast, but not hard. A surprise that makes Credence gasp. The feeling lingers in his nerves.

It could be more, Credence thinks, as the prickling sensation in his skin starts to fade.

“Again?” Percival asks.

Credence lifts his left hand off the wallpaper and glances at Percival from the corner of his eye. He’s raising his eyebrows at Credence.

“Really?” he asks, as though it’s a surprise.

Credence puts his hand back in place and nods.

“Keep going,” Credence says. “I think you can get it right.”

“For you, darling, I shall certainly try,” Percival says. He moves closer to Credence’s shoulder, close enough that Credence can feel he breath against his neck.

The next strike, Credence expects. He holds himself perfectly, perfectly still.

Percival’s hand hits him hard enough to make a sound. Credence’s hips buck forward from the force of it. His skin stings. Credence shuts his eyes very tightly.

“That wasn’t too much?” Percival asks. He sounds worried.

Credence wants to reassure him, but his mouth feels sealed shut. He shakes his head. It was exactly what he wanted, now if only Percival might do it twenty more times he could be satisfied.

That might be an exaggeration. It might be a lie.

Percival reaches back and hits him exactly the same. Once. Twice. Three times. On the third, Credence’s mouth opens against his volition. A small, high sound comes out of him.

“Shh,” Percival hushes him. He caresses Credence, his hand hot against skin made warm with blood.

“I’m astonished,” he says. “Amazed even.”

He doesn’t explain himself, instead he pulls his hand back and smacks it against Credence’s ass just as hard. It feels harder now because his skin is raw with nerves. He can feel the blood gathering at the surface with sparks of heat.

The slap of skin against skin sounds just as obscene to Credence’s ears as sex.

His face heats up. His hips rock back and forth against nothing even when Percival rests his hand against Credence’s burning skin. He’s completely hard now, feeling wetness gather at the very tip of his cock.

Credence bows his head until his forehead touches the wall.

Percival gropes him, squeezing his hand until his fingers dig into Credence’s skin. It hurts a little, but only very little. He swallows the noise caught in his throat.

He’s hit again, sharply and not as hard. Then Percival pulls back and smacks him hard enough to send Credence’s hips forward. His knees wobble. He bites down hard to keep himself from making a sound, but it comes out anyway.

His jaw relaxes just so Credence can try to catch his breath.

“Do you want me to touch your cock?” Percival asks.

Credence shakes his head, even though he aches for it.

“Alright,” Percival says, smoothing his hand against the curve of Credence’s ass.

He has broad hands with wide fingers, big and square hands. Credence loves to kiss them, to have his fingers in his mouth or inside his body. He loves simply to lace his longer, bonier fingers with Percival’s and clutch his hand dearly.

He loves this.

Percival strikes him again, a bit too softly. But then he doesn’t stop. The sound of skin striking skin keeps up, just like fucking. Credence’s hips jerk forward in rhythm with it. His cock throbs.

He pants until his mouth is damp with spit.

His skin feels like it’s on fire and the feeling makes him so aroused that it hurts. Credence can’t even think. He only feels.

The muscles in his thighs quiver. His nipples harden to little points that rub against his underwear and the inside of his shirt. Wetness drips from his cock down his thigh, like a single tear.

Percival doesn’t stop. He just doesn’t.

Credence turns his face so that his cheek presses against the wall. His back arches. He leans into the space before the blow and then his hips snap forward with it. His mouth hangs open, letting every hot breath in and every sharp sound out.

Then Percival stops and Credence hears himself wail.

Percival’s lips meet his open mouth. Credence’s mouth fills with the taste of Percival’s tongue, the heat and the wet. He bites him slightly, sucking on his tongue until Percival pulls himself away.

“My hand hurts,” he says. “I can’t imagine how you feel.”

Raw, mostly, is how Credence feels. His skin feels raw and enflamed, so hot that the skin throbs with his pulse. His cock throbs at exactly the same beat.

“You’re so pale,” Percival says. “I’ve turned your skin so red, it’s like blood.”

Credence looks at Percival through half-shut eyes. He mostly sees his own eyelashes and the blur of tears in his eyes.

He licks his lips.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“Yes,” Percival says. “Always, because it’s you. You’re beautiful.”

“I want you inside me,” Credence says.

“I don’t know if I could last long enough to get there,” Percival says. “Darling, I’m sorry.”

“But I want you,” Credence says.

Percival kisses him again; Credence kisses back with teeth.

After he breaks the kiss, Percival moves behind him. His chest presses flush to Credence’s back. He grinds his hips against Credence and even the soft wool feels torturous against Credence’s raw nerves. He whimpers.

“Please,” he says.

He feels Percival ease back slightly. Credence recognizes the whispered words of spells. Percival’s fly unbuttons itself. Cool oil follows the touch of Percival’s fingers between his thighs. Credence hisses at the contrast against his burning skin.

Percival doesn’t press into him, but between his thighs, until his cock pushes against Credence’s balls and the front of his underwear. Percival’s hand reaches around his hip to touch his cock. It’s all very much, nearly too much.

Credence digs his fingernails into the wall paper and cries out.

“Go ahead,” Percival says. He kisses the back of Credence’s head, pressing his nose into Credence’s hair.

“You deserve this,” Percival tells him. “You’ve been so good. So honest, so good.”

He cannot think clearly enough to doubt Percival’s words.

Credence moves his hips, rocking back against Percival’s body and then forward into the touch of his hand. His ass stings when he presses it into Percival’s hips, so he does that again and again.

“Please,” Credence begs, with no idea what he’s begging for. “Please.”

His body jerks against Percival’s hold. He loses control of himself. Semen spills against the thin fabric of his underwear and soaks through to Percival’s hand. It’s hot for just a moment against his skin. The oil between his thighs has grown warm with friction, too.

Credence melts.

His body sags against the wall and Percival pushes him against it to keep him standing. His hips press hard against Credence’s body again and again and again. Then he groans right against the back of Credence’s neck and Credence feels him spill hot between his legs.

He’s filthy, and his underwear is filthy now, too. His skin feels flushed everywhere from his scalp to his ankles. He feels like a struck match, now burnt down to nothing.

His heart races in his chest, fast as a bird’s wing against a headwind.

“Thank you,” Credence says. “Thank you, Percival.”

“My hand still stings,” he says, then laughs into Credence’s shoulder.

“I’ll kiss it better for you,” Credence murmurs.

“I think you should lie down first,” Percival says. “Let me get you undressed and cleaned up.”

He doesn’t have to touch Credence to do either thing, but he does. Magic helps, cleans and unbuttons without anything but words, but Credence most appreciates being helped into bed by Percival’s own hands.

There he lies, with his face pushed into the pillow.

“I’m spent,” he mumbles. “I’ll never recover.”

“You say that now,” Percival says. “And in twenty minutes you’ll be hard again, mark my words.”

“Then I’ll be that way in my sleep,” Credence says.

“Your skin is still pink you know,” Percival says. “Like a medium-rare steak.”

“Good,” Credence tells him, then rolls over and slides close enough to press his nose into the side of Percival’s arm. “Very good.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request on tumblr so I guess I have to say I'm there at jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s.tumblr.com


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